


Re-framing the Canvas

by birdjay



Series: The Met: Art Conservation Studies [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Steve Rogers, Blow Jobs, Don’t copy to another site, First Date, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Frottage, Hairy Bucky Barnes, M/M, Making Out, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers is Not Captain America, art porn, art restoration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 03:58:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17615030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdjay/pseuds/birdjay
Summary: Steve and Dr. Barnes's first date.





	Re-framing the Canvas

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that I have (sadly) never been to the actual Met. I am taking more liberties than I would like to with the museum and the offices there, so I apologize if you dislike whatever I've done to it. Just sort of...squint and pretend it makes sense, okay? Also this is the first real like...smut I've ever posted so be gentle.
> 
> This is dedicated to [rohkeutta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rohkeutta) and [lockedlocke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockedlocke) for being wonderful cheerleaders. You guys are why this even exists.

 

 

Bucky tugs at Steve’s gloved hands, pulling him down the street and around the corner. “You want to see my office?” He asks, a bright smile pulling at his lips as he looks back at Steve.

Steve’s heart melts as he looks at him, sure that there could never be a better view than the one before him. Dr. James Barnes, wearing a black wool peacoat buttoned straight up to his chin, a bright red scarf wrapped tight around his throat, and his cheeks pink with the cold. He smiles at the man before him, hurries along after him, letting Bucky set their pace.

“Buck -- it’s ten past nine, there’s no way the museum’s still open…” Steve says, with a frown. He does want to see Bucky’s space at the Met, but it can wait. This is, after all, still their first date. They have -- Steve hopes, at least -- many, many more dates ahead of them.  

They’d gone out to dinner -- a little Italian hole-in-the-wall that Steve had discovered years and years ago. Steve had had his usual: an enormous plate of spaghetti parmesan, piled high with melty cheese and red sauce. Bucky had gotten some fish dish that Steve can’t pronounce. The bread plate had disappeared between them within seven minutes, devoured between glasses of white wine and sweet conversation.

It had all gone so smooth. He still can’t quite believe it. It’s never been this easy. He’d paid for their meals after two straight hours of talking, and then stared hopelessly at Bucky with a hangdog expression. He hadn’t wanted the night to end. Not yet.

Bucky had solved it all by suggesting a walk.

“There’s a staff entrance,” Bucky says, with a laugh. He stops pulling forward, and bounces off Steve’s chest to stand in front of him. He smiles up, crookedly. “And I have a key.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, stretching up to press his mouth against Steve’s in a kiss that’s still mostly just a smile. Steve can’t help but kiss back. He gets to do that now. He gets to kiss Dr. Barnes presumably whenever he wants. It’s every dream he’s had in the past month. Every dream since he saw that first video.

“You wanna walk there, or?” Steve asks, with a laugh. They aren’t close. Not by a long shot. They’re at the other end of the city, in fact, but he’d pretty much do whatever Bucky asked of him now. Even if that means walking the length of the city at nine o’clock at night.

Bucky blows a raspberry, and pulls out his phone. “I’ll call an Uber.”

***

 

The Uber drops them off behind a nondescript building about twenty minutes later. There are security lights illuminating a small empty parking lot. Bucky pays the driver with a tap to his phone and a smile. They leave the car, and stand in the parking lot, staring up at the building before them. It’s a big white box, with few windows covered by closed blinds. There’s not even a business name or title displayed anywhere, but Steve figures its owned by the Met, if Bucky’s offices are inside.

“C’mon, yeah?” Bucky says, grabbing at Steve’s hand again.

“Lead the way,” Steve says, nodding towards the building. Nerves are bubbling up in his stomach. He...he could be real close to seeing where Bucky films his videos. He could see actual art waiting to be restored. He could -- _maybe_ \-- see Bucky restore art, right in front of him. How would he be able to watch that without popping a boner? And how the hell would he explain that without embarrassing himself?

The first door to the building requires a shiny metal key, hanging from a nondescript keychain around Bucky’s wrist. The second door, the swipe of a bright red keycard. Past those two doors is a largeish room lined with _more_ doors. The only lights inside are emergency ones, lighting the corners.

“This way,” Bucky says, tugging on Steve’s hand to pull him towards the right. Steve follows, staring at his surroundings as curiosity takes over. He has no idea what the bulk of this building is for, but reproductions of famous works line the walls. They pass a copy of Starry Night, and one of The Night Watch. Bucky pays them no mind, but why would he, if he sees them every day?

“Where...what is this place?” Steve asks, lagging behind enough for Bucky’s hold on his hand to pull tight. Bucky stops, and turns, blinking back at Steve with a confused expression.

“It’s offices, mostly,” Bucky answers, moving back to Steve. “Restoration space towards the back, storage that way,” He adds, flicking his hands towards the directions he mentions. He smiles, and then nods towards the other end of the hallway, where they were headed. “I’ll show you, if you want? But first…”

Steve nods, and lets Bucky take control once more. It doesn’t take very long for them to reach a closed door with a frosted glass window that’s painted with the name DR. JAMES B. BARNES. Steve smiles at it, and then at Bucky himself. Bucky rolls his eyes, but reaches back for the same keychain he’d used to unlock the main door. He sticks a different key in the lock, twists it, and gets the door open with a hard shove. Bucky slaps a hand against the wall just inside, and the lights click on.

“Come in?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at Steve with that cocky grin of his.

Steve bends down enough to kiss him quick before brushing past to walk into the office. He stands in front of a huge wooden desk, and looks at his surroundings.

It’s a bigger room than he thought it was going to be, with very, very tall ceilings. The walls are plain white, but they’re decorated with reproductions of famous works, and what looks like personal photographs. The desk itself is enormous, and probably older than both of them combined. It’s got beautiful little details carved into the legs. Steve wants to run his fingers over them, but restrains himself. Another time, maybe.

Behind the desk, and next to the sole (now dark) window, is a tall bookshelf with a cabinet underneath. The shelves are full to bursting with art-related books, and more personal knicknacks. Next to the desk, is a corkboard absolutely covered in memos and small cut out bits of newspaper. Steve aches to read some of them, but instead turns slightly to look at the other half of the office.

There’s a very sleek modern-looking grey couch up against one wall, with a tall potted plant tucked into the corner beside it. A fuzzy white rug is underfoot, softening the harsh dark floor. It’s almost homey, the little section of the room with the couch and rug. Steve smiles at it, and turns to grin at Bucky again.

“I like it,” he says, closing the few feet between them to hook a hand on Bucky’s arm.

Bucky smirks at him, twists enough that he can press his mouth to Steve’s cheek. “Thanks,” He says, the word whispering across Steve’s skin. “Take your coat off, yeah? We can stay for awhile…” Bucky says, pulling away enough to peel himself out of his own jacket. He slings it across the back of his desk chair, and untwirls his scarf from around his throat. “You want somethin’ to drink?” He asks, nodding back towards the cabinet under the bookcase. “I’ve got vodka…”

Steve shrugs, “Sure?” He takes his own jacket off, and throws it on top of Bucky’s.

Bucky nods once. He rummages in the cabinet for a minute, and emerges with two shot glasses full of clear liquid. He sets them both on the desk, and waves towards them with one large hand. “Ready?” He says, glancing upwards with an ice-blue stare.

Steve grabs towards one of the glasses, and keeps it solidly in his fist. He brings it up to his mouth, and waits for Bucky to do the same before slamming back the shot in one go. The vodka is harsh on his throat, but he manages to swallow it all before coughing exactly once. His eyes water, but whatever. He hasn’t done shots like that in years. Since college, maybe. Steve sets the glass down on the edge of Bucky’s desk, and then leans back to look at him.

Bucky is a beautiful man. His brown hair is pulled back in a messy bun at the base of his neck, little tendrils of it curling out around his face. He’s dressed to impress -- wearing a steel grey shirt, with tight black slacks that do everything to accentuate just how nice his body actually is. His smile, though, his smile is full of light and life, and Steve wants to kiss it right off his face. He reaches out with a hand, and snares Bucky’s button-down shirt with a few of his fingers. He grabs a fistful of the fabric, and yanks. “C’mere,” He says, voice rough.

Bucky, laughing happily, closes the few feet between them. He slides his palms up Steve’s chest, and rests them on his shoulders. Tilting his head to the side, he asks, “Yes?”

Steve, one hand full of Bucky’s shirt, uses the other to pull Bucky’s hips closer to his own. “Can I kiss you?”

“You can do anything you want to me,” Bucky whispers back, cheeks turning just the tiniest bit pink.

 _That’s interesting_ , Steve thinks, chasing the color with his eyes as it disappears into his hairline. He blinks at him after a second, and buys himself time by lowering his mouth to Bucky’s and pressing a searing kiss there. Anything he wants, hmm? There’s a lot he wants to do to and with Bucky, but tonight their options are seemingly limited by what they can do in this office, which is...not a lot, considering. There’s probably not lube available anywhere in here, but he can make do.

He licks his tongue against Bucky’s bottom lip, hoping to turn one kiss into several. Bucky opens his mouth to the invitation, tilting his head just enough to change the feel of the kiss entirely. His mouth is hot and wet. Steve wants to climb inside, and stay for while. Instead, he pushes harder into the kiss, turning it brutal. His tongue finds into Bucky’s mouth, licking into the sheer heat of it. A soft moan escapes from between them, and Steve’s not sure who it actually belongs to.

He pulls away just far enough to move to Bucky’s neck, tugging the collar of his shirt down to suck a mark where his neck turns into his shoulder. His skin smells devine here, like something cedary and smoky, sending Steve chasing after the scent with the tip of his nose. Bucky’s hands climb up his back, tightening in the short hair at the base of his neck.

“Don’t stop,” Bucky says, in a rough voice, right by Steve’s ear. Sparks shoot down his spine like fireworks.

“Wasn’t gonna,” Steve manages to say, between marks. He leaves a deep purple one just on the edge of where Bucky’s shirt will barely cover it, and feels absolutely no guilt. Some part of him wants people to know how much of a good time Bucky had tonight. He wants it to be visible to _everyone_. “Can I -- ?” he starts, but is interrupted.

“ _Anything_ , I mean it, I wasn’t joking…” Bucky says, in a breathy voice. He digs his fingers into Steve’s scalp, and uses the grip to turn his head so he can lick into Steve’s mouth. Steve lets him. How could he not? He wants to live in his mouth, he wants to stay there forever, he wants _so many things_.

Steve pulls his hand away from Bucky’s hip and wedges it between them to press his palm to the small tent in Bucky’s slacks. A shuddering, appreciative breath leaves Bucky’s mouth. Steve smiles as he runs his fingers along him, suddenly desperate to touch him without the barrier of fabric. “Can I suck you off?” he asks.

“ _Steve_ \-- “ Bucky says, grabbing hold of his head again, pulls Steve backward to look at him. His pupils are blown wide. Steve did that. _He_ did that to _Bucky_. A bubble of pride rises to his chest, and sits there. “If you don’t, I want...”

Steve doesn’t let him finish the sentence, instead turning them around so he can walk them backward to the couch. He spends the short few seconds kissing Bucky breathless, before pushing on his chest hard enough to send him falling onto the cushions behind him. Bucky falls with a soft _oof_ , and adjusts himself closer to the edge of the couch. He’s watching Steve with dark eyes, panting slightly.

Steve keeps his eyes locked on Bucky’s as he slowly lowers himself to his knees. He pushes Bucky’s legs apart with both his hands, and situates himself between them. Steve runs both his palms up Bucky’s thighs, revelling in the way the strong muscle feels beneath his hands. Bucky’s thighs are thick, muscular, and Steve wants them on either side of his head _immediately._ With suddenly shaking hands, he tugs at Bucky’s belt. He fumbles a bit, failing to undo it, and whines as Bucky slaps his hands away to do it himself.

“Take a breath, Steve,” Bucky says, halting his movements to lean forward enough to kiss Steve sweetly. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Steve does as he’s told, sucking in a shuddering breath, and nods, recentering himself. He can do this. He’s wanted to do this for months. “Okay, let me, I…”

Bucky shoves at Steve’s shoulders, and lets out a bubbly laugh. “Don’t choke yourself. Calm down, Stevie, it’s just…”

“Just what?” Steve asks, blinking. The haze of arousal disappears for a moment. It’s just what? A blowjob? A one night stand? Just nothing? Does Bucky not want this as much as Steve does?

“Just me,” Bucky says, with a shrug. “I’m not anything to get this worked up over…”

Oh. Steve’s face falls for a moment, and reaches out to tug Bucky back down to him so he can kiss him. He sucks on Bucky’s lower lip, and bites down for a split second, before licking into his mouth again. He pulls away with a wet noise to stare directly into Bucky’s ice blue eyes. “You are. Believe me. Now...can I blow you or...?” 

Bucky laughs again, and leans backward enough to unzip his zipper. He wiggles his pants down his thighs a bit, and then waves a hand towards his erection. “You waitin’ for an invitation?”

Steve snorts, but reaches out and runs his hands along Bucky’s thighs again, slotting his hand on either side of Bucky’s cock. It’s jutting up obscenely, tenting the dark red fabric of Bucky’s boxers. He leans forward, and presses his mouth to the tip of it, wetting the fabric with his lips. A hiss of breath above him makes Steve flick his eyes up to check Bucky’s reaction. His mouth is open, eyes dark and glued to where Steve’s mouth is on him. 

“God, if you could only see yourself like this…” Bucky says, sliding his hand into Steve’s hair. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous with your mouth like that…”

Steve tries not to preen from the praise, but laves at Bucky’s erection with his mouth, getting his boxers nice and wet before pulling away. He keeps a hand on his cock, brushing up and down it with the tips of his fingers, getting a feel for how big Bucky actually is. He’s thick rather than long, leaving Steve’s mouth watering at the realization that _he gets to do this._

He hooks the tips of his forefingers on the waist of Bucky’s boxers and tugs them down. He glances back up at Bucky for assistance, pleased when the other man pushes up off the couch enough to help get the fabric down around his knees. As soon as the boxers are out of his way, Steve leans back down and sucks the tip of Bucky’s dick into his mouth. It’s hot against his tongue, and silky soft as he swirls his tongue around it. A punched out breath sounds from above him, sending a shoot of pleasure somewhere into Steve’s gut. He repeats the action -- if _that_ was the response, why wouldn’t he -- and looks up to watch Bucky’s face.

His eyes are half-closed, mouth open as he slips his fingers into Steve’s hair. He’s not pulling or pushing, which Steve is thankful for. Bucky’s fingers are merely there, warm against his scalp. He’s watching Steve carefully, waiting for whatever comes next.

Steve curls the fingers of his right hand around Bucky’s cock, and pulls more of him into his mouth. He sucks once hard, and then lightens up enough that he can bob his head down over him. Steve twists his wrist a little, jacking whatever part of Bucky he can’t fit into his mouth. Another breathy moan above him tells Steve exactly what he needs to know. Whatever he’s doing, he’s doing it right.

Steve is not a master at sucking dicks. He’s sucked maybe four his entire life, and one of those is iffy because he’d been so goddamned drunk. He never actually claimed to be good at it, but still. It counts for something that he’s pleased Bucky this far. That bubble of pride he’d felt earlier only swells at the thought. Bucky _likes_ this. He’s doing _good._ His own cock his hard, pressing uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans. He’s trying to ignore it -- Bucky is more important -- but it’s making its needs known.

The fingers in his hair tighten just slightly, little pinpricks of pain somewhere on the back of his head. Steve ignores them as best he can, and drags his mouth, slow and wet, up Bucky’s dick. He pulls off with a wet suck, flattening his tongue against the bottom of Bucky’s cockhead. With another glance upward, Steve bobs his head down and takes as much as he can in one go. He feels Bucky bump the back of his throat, and swallows around the heat of him.

Bucky lets out a small, “ _Oh,_ ” and lets his head loll back on his shoulders. His hips roll forward towards Steve. Steve uses his free hand to shove them back down onto the couch. _Alright_ , then. He pours all his concentration into getting Bucky off. He changes his rhythm, stroking Bucky faster and harder with his fist. He slides his mouth back onto him, and _sucks_.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky says above him, yanking on his hair. “Come on, come up here,” Bucky says, removing his hands from Steve’s hair, and tugging on his arms.

Steve pulls off with a _pop_ and looks up, confused. “What -- I want to --”

“No, together, c’mon, I wanna get my hands on you…”

Steve leans back onto his heels, and blinks at Bucky. “But..”

“Steve, _come here_ ,” Bucky demands, patting one thick thigh with a hand. Steve rocks himself up onto his feet and clambers into Bucky’s lap, straddling him. Bucky makes quick work of the button and zipper on his jeans, and slides a big, warm hand right inside to grab at his hard cock. Steve stutters out a moan, his eyes sliding shut. When was the last time someone elses’ hand touched his dick? He can’t actually remember, which is probably a bad sign.

“Scoot closer, Stevie,” Bucky says, moving his hand out of Steve’s pants to tug on his hip.

Steve goes, moving close enough that he can grind down onto Bucky’s erection. God, that feels...that feels _so good_. He does it again, and groans. Bucky slides one hand up Steve’s chest, up his neck, and hooks his thumb in front of his ear, curling his fingers around to grasp almost the entirety of Steve’s skull. The grip Bucky has on him has absolutely no right to be as hot as it is. He yanks him down, and fastens his mouth over Steve’s in a wet kiss. His other hand finds it way back into Steve’s pants, tugging his boxers down enough that he can get his fingers around his shaft. Another moan pulls itself out of Steve’s mouth.

Steve’s hips stutter forward, pushing himself further into Bucky’s fist. Why hadn’t they done this earlier? Why weren’t they doing this _always_? He blinks back into himself a moment later, and slaps his hands forward onto Bucky’s chest. He dances them down the buttons of his shirt, and quickly undoes them, revealing a surprisingly furry chest. Steve runs his fingertips through the hair, looking up to smile at Bucky.

Bucky blinks up at him like he’s looking at the sun, and beams right back. “You want... _come here_ , I want…” Steve leans forward again, and suddenly they’re kissing, and Bucky’s hand is around his cock, and Steve’s hand is in Bucky’s chest hair, and everything is so much.

Bucky shifts, wiggling underneath Steve’s weight. He twist his hand, and captures both their dicks in his fist. He pumps them together, the friction hot and delicious. Steve gasps at the feeling, tucking his face into Bucky’s neck to get at the marks he left earlier. He sucks hard on one, and leaves a wet trail with his tongue to the others. Bucky strokes them faster, and tighter, and Steve can’t help but thrust his hips up, and up.

“‘m gonna, I’m close,” Steve admits, panting directly onto Bucky’s hot skin. Bucky nods, and twists his head enough to lick into Steve’s mouth. The kiss, and Bucky’s hand send him shooting over the edge of oblivion, and making a mess all over Bucky’s fingers. He climbs back to consciousness just in time to catch Bucky’s orgasm. His mouth falls open, his eyes roll back, and it’s the hottest fucking thing Steve’s ever seen.

 

***

 

They spend exactly three minutes locating tissues to clean up with (in the third desk drawer), and then fall right back onto the couch. Steve ends up back in Bucky’s lap, which is exactly where he wanted to be. Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s hips, and holds him close. It’s nice, and comfortable, and before long Steve feels himself start to drift.

His thoughts shift as he closes his eyes. Bucky’s right here. Dr. James Barnes, the man he’s had a crush on for months. He smiles to himself, and then lets out a soft sigh. He should tell him, right? He should come clean.

“I have to tell you something,” Steve sighs, letting his forehead roll a little on Bucky’s shoulder. He feels worn out and boneless in the best way.

“What’s that?” Bucky asks, voice soft. He’s playing with the hem on the back Steve’s shirt, rolling it between his fingers. It tickles, just slightly.

“You know how I said I’d seen your videos?” Steve says, blinking a little to keep himself awake enough to finish this admission.

Bucky nods.

“Well, the thing is, the first time I saw one of yours…” Steve says, laughter starting to color his words. God, this whole situation is headed towards absolutely ridiculous romcom-type territory, if romcoms were about embarrassing masturbatory fantasies. He winces slightly before letting the rest of his words tumble from his mouth. “I may have...accidentally...sort of...jerked off to you?”

Bucky freezes underneath him, blinks once, and then turns his head just enough to look Steve directly in the eye. “You jerked off...to art restoration videos?” His voice is blank of any emotion. Steve steels himself to be dumped on the ground out of fury or shame or _something._

Steve nods, and feels his blush creep right up his chest to settle on his cheeks, bright pink.

“Was it me specifically or the art that did it for you?” Bucky asks with a giggle, and Steve knows that he’s in the clear. _It’s okay._

“Little of both?” Steve admits, with a snort of laughter.

“Jesus Christ, _you_ ,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes and capturing Steve’s lips in another kiss.

Still laughing, Steve kisses him back.

 

 


End file.
